Not as Planned
by DryadSpeaks
Summary: Spinoff of "All My Dreams" chapter 100, and "The Smile on Your Face" chapter 82.  Quinn has some plans to spice up the weekend and loosen Artie up a bit...but that doesn't go as planned.


As Quinn was busy readying herself to head over to Artie's, she thought about her plan. It was bound to work, right? She'd be more relaxed and loosened up, and Artie would hopefully be loosened up too. Maybe she could actually get him to talk about things, rather than just changing the subject whenever she brought up…anything to do with him.

Once she'd finished fixing her hair, Quinn went to her closet. Reaching behind a pile of sweaters, she pulled out a small bottle. She tucked the bottle into her purse, and headed out the door.

* * *

><p>As Artie waited for Quinn to arrive, he fluffed the brightly-coloured couch pillows strewn about the furniture in the living room. Not that they needed fluffing…but that was what you were supposed to do, right?<p>

After seeing his family off earlier that morning, he had busied himself preparing for Quinn's arrival. He'd made sure the sheets in the guest bedroom were perfect (even though he knew his mother had changed them the day before), and set about tidying up anything that seemed like it needed it.

He was just finishing with the last of the pillows, when he heard Quinn's car pull up. Figuring she would let herself in like she always did, he waited.

After a couple of minutes, he decided that maybe he should go see what was taking her so long. He was almost at the door, when the doorbell rang. When he opened the door, he was greeted by the smiling face of his girlfriend.

Grinning, Quinn threw her arms around him, kissing him lightly on the cheek. As she stepped back, he noticed her cheeks were a bit flushed, which seemed odd to him, because it wasn't particularly cold, or hot outside. Maybe she had been hurrying before she left, he reasoned.

As she stepped inside, taking off her coat and hanging it on one of the hooks on the wall, Quinn began to speak. "I'm really glad we're going to have some time to ourselves," she said. "It was nice of your parents to let me stay the night tonight while they're away. What have you got planned?"

Artie shrugged, leading her into the living room. "Well," he said, "I didn't really plan too much. I thought we'd just kind of play it by ear," he added, grinning at her.

Giggling loudly, Quinn sat down on the couch, patting the space beside her.

After Artie had transferred to the seat next to her, she grabbed his arm, wrapping it around her. "Do you know that you're the best boyfriend ever?" she asked, leaning against him. "I mean…really the best boyfriend ever."

Artie smiled softly, pulling her closer. "That's only because I have the best girlfriend ever," he said. "Which…that reminds me. Speaking of me NOT being a good boyfriend…did you want something to drink? Food? I should have asked before we sat down."

"A drink would be good," she said. "How about I go grab a couple of glasses of juice or something?"

"I can go," he said, pulling himself up a bit straighter. "I wouldn't want anyone to think that the A-man doesn't treat his guests properly. Or…you could go…" he trailed off, softly, as Quinn stood up and headed towards the kitchen. He thought he heard her stop for a second near the entryway, but figured she had just stopped to look at some family photos…there were a LOT of them around, and he knew she was always drawn to them, even if she'd seen then fifty times before.

As Artie sat, waiting for Quinn to return, he tried to convince himself that something WASN'T off about her. She seemed slightly different, but not enough that he could put his finger on what was going on. Maybe she was nervous about something? Or upset and trying not to let it show?

Or maybe she was just having an off day. Everyone had those, right?

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Quinn poured two glasses of juice, and then pulled the small bottle she'd brought from home out of her pocket and added some to each glass, taking a sip before she closed it back up. She didn't really know what she'd been thinking when she sat in front of Artie's house, sipping from the bottle before going inside, but she was beginning to wonder if maybe her whole idea for trying to get the conversation going was wrong. There had to have been better ways she could handle it.<p>

But, at that point, it was too late.

* * *

><p>Artie was still lost in his thoughts when Quinn returned, a few seconds later, and handed him a glass of juice.<p>

Realizing that he wasn't really thirsty right then, Artie placed his glass on the table to his right, making sure there was a coaster underneath it.

He and Quinn sat for a bit, talking, cuddling, and just being together.

Eventually, he reached over to the glass, and brought it to his mouth. No sooner than the cool liquid hit his tongue, he spat it back into the glass.

"Quinn, is there alcohol in this?" he asked sharply, turning to her.

Smiling, Quinn nodded. "Just a bit."

Artie just stared at her, the wheels in his brain churning at full speed. The flushed cheeks. The over-eager hug when he opened the door. The giggling. Quinn's hands all over him as they'd cuddled on the couch…so much more than usual. He was about to say something, when Quinn spoke.

"I thought it might help us loosen up a little," she said. "You know…I brought the party."

Artie raised his eyebrows. "What are you talking about?" he said, somewhat angrily.

Quinn shrugged. "Santana told me once everything is better after you've been drinking…I thought we'd give it a shot. You're not mad, are you?"

"Quinn," he said, much more quietly than she was expecting. "Were you drinking before you got here?"

"Just a little," she admitted. "Why?"

"Are you telling me that you drank and then DROVE HERE?" he asked, the volume of his voice rising. "And then tried to get me drunk? Is that what's going on here?"

"I wasn't trying to get you drunk," she said. "I just thought maybe if we both loosened up a little, we'd talk about more stuff. I feel like we never talk about any of the important stuff. You always seem like you're uncomfortable and don't want to talk about stuff. That little conversation we had while we were planting the garden…I think we should have more conversations like that. I want to know about you, Artie."

"And you thought that drinking and driving and then getting me drunk was going to help with that?" he asked, bitterly. "I think you need to leave."

"But, Artie," she said. "I'm sorry. I thought you'd be ok with it. And I didn't drink until I got here," she added, softly.

"You need to leave," he said, appearing not to hear her. "I'll drive you home."

"I'm parked behind your car," she said. "It's fine. If you really want me to leave, I'll just drive myself. Or I'll go move my car."

He shook his head, and began to prepare to transfer to his chair. "You are not getting behind the wheel of any vehicle. I'll call a cab, and pay them to drop you off."

"I don't need a cab," she said, standing up. "And I don't need to leave either. You're totally overreacting. Why are you so angry? I just told you, I didn't drink before I drove."

"I'm not having this conversation with you right now," he said, as he arranged his feet on the footrest of his chair, completely oblivious to the last words out of her mouth before he started talking again. "Not while you're drunk, and not while I'm mad. We'll just both end up saying things that we don't mean and will regret later. But you're wrong. You do need to leave. I can't believe you would do this."

"Artie, it's not that bad," she said, quietly. "I'm sorry."

"It is that bad!" he yelled, louder than he'd intended. Quinn cringed a little, and he continued. "You have no idea what you're talking about. Now get out of my way, so I can go phone you a cab."

"Well maybe I would have an idea what I'm talking about if you'd ever talk to me about anything!" she yelled back, tears beginning to flow down her cheeks. "Clearly something about this has upset you, but how can I even know what and why if you never talk to me about anything important? And how can we even talk about this if you won't listen to me?"

"I AM NOT HAVING THIS CONVERSATION WITH YOU RIGHT NOW, QUINN," Artie bellowed. "I need to be alone right now. And you need to leave," he added, his voice returning to its normal volume. "Now move, please, so I can call you a cab."

In the months that Quinn and Artie had been together, Quinn had never once heard him raise his voice at anyone. The fact that he was sitting in front of her looking like he was about to cry himself and yelling at her told her that what she had done had clearly been very, very wrong in his eyes, even if what she had done and what he thought she had done were not the same. There was no point in arguing further with him.

"Ok," she said, softly, stepping to the side.

As Artie dug around in the cabinet under the phone in the hallway, looking for the number of the local cab company, Quinn gathered her belongings.

He turned to her. "Give me your car keys," he demanded, holding out his hand. "You can come get them tomorrow, when you haven't been drinking."

"Artie, I haven't had that much to drink," she said, swaying slightly. "I'm sorry! I didn't know that this would make you mad. I just thought maybe you'd talk about stuff if you had a drink or two."

He looked away. "Well, you thought wrong. Quinn, I will talk about this with you, but not right now. Not while you've been drinking, and I'm angry. The cab should be here in about ten minutes. Go home, sober up, and we'll talk about it later. I just can't believe you would do this."

"But I'm sorry," she said, quietly. "I thought it would help. And I told you, I didn't drink until I got here."

Artie sat, saying nothing. It was like he was there with her, but wasn't hearing her.

She went on. "Please, Artie," she said, even quieter than before. "I'm sorry. Whatever's going on here…I didn't know."

"Your cab is here," he said, wheeling over and opening the door, choosing to ignore what she had said.

Quinn followed, closing the door behind her. She watched as Artie handed the driver some money, and told her where she lived.

As the driver pulled away from the curb, Quinn glanced to her right, hoping to spot Artie, but he had already gone back inside.

**A/N: Due to the fact that today is my birthday, I think EVERYONE who reads should leave me a review. :)**

**Also, I do NOT endorse or support underage drinking or drinking and driving. I am quite against both. **

**I was going to carry on after Quinn got home, but then thought it would be more interesting to carry it on in their journals. So…be sure to read the corresponding journals, chapter 100 of "All My Dreams" (Artie) and chapter 82 of "The Smile on Your Face" (Quinn).**


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